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Flickering Lanterns

Let's 'live' and not 'survive'.

Category

Poetry

For Someone who is a No-one.

fog fade
You know what,
I actually felt something go off,
Whenever I read that name.
Something beeped,
Something exploded,
Like confetti or a bomb I don’t know.
It just did.
There was something.
But.
They said,
Don’t go there.
It’s trouble.
You’ll regret it.
“Wait till it fades,
And then you’ll be okay.”
I am okay,
But not fine at all.
It passed,
I’m here,
Content, carefree,
In a duh-who-cares mood,
With a nothing-matters-to-me-anymore attitude.
But.
You know what?
It hurts,
It matters,
I care,
Even if I am over it.
Because it happened.
You won’t get it.
I don’t get it either.
‘Cause I have no idea,
What “it” was, or
What “it” feels like.

– Mahaah.

To the far-away Her.

texting
I’m sorry. I can’t.
Even if  I try, I can’t.
I see your name and then I just can’t.
All those memories and flashbacks,
They hit me like a train,
And squeeze me between the tracks.
Why did it happen?
Did it have to?
Or did I deserve it?
You ask me how have I been.
And then there’s silence.
One word replies,
Aren’t any good,
I get it.
You ask me how I am now.
Babe I don’t even know it myself.
Try to understand,
Like I never tried to.
I want to talk, I want to, really.
But.
I can’t.
I just can’t.
I’m sorry.

– Mahaah.

A World Without Me.

random2

The sun will rise in the East, it will set in the West.
The birds will sing the dawn chorus from their nests.
The same cheery colors will paint the morning sky.
The flowers upon the kiss of morning-ray will shy.

My sister will get ready for school and leave on time.
And my mother will sit and recite Quran meantime.
My brother and his wife will go to work together.
My father will have some tea and look out for the weather.

Traffic on the roads will be buzzing like it does.
People will be busy in their chores creating fuzz.
Everything will be normal like on any ordinary day.
Nothing will be an obstacle in anybody’s way.

Parks will still be full of happy people.
Kids will be chasing and popping soap bubbles.
There will not be a single sign of gloom.
For no one will notice if there’s a person’s room.

Life will be usual, like it is commonly.
Days and nights will be same, habitually.
Unnoticed in my grave I’ll be,
Since this would be a world without me.

– Mahaah.

Virtual Beings.

virtual beings
I’ve lost faith in people,
Normal ordinary humans,
The ones we meet on a daily basis,
Or people altogether.
Harsh, rude, vulturous,
And what not?
They are pathetic,
Really.

Surprisingly,
Quite unnaturally,
To my astonishment,
Undoubtedly.

I’ve fallen in love with virtual beings,
Weird internet humans,
The ones we converse on a daily basis,
Or usernames altogether.
Humble, nice, down to earth,
And what not?
They are amazing,
Really.

– Mahaah.

Shush.

shut up
“I was saying..”
Shut up.
“But listen to me..”
Shut up.
“Okay so there’s this thing..”
Shut up.
“I’m really excited about..”
Shut up.
“I wanted to share..”
Shut up.”
“I mean..”
Shut up.

Why have you stopped speaking?
“… ..”

“It doesn’t hurt, not anymore.”

handblood

Looking at the shattered glass,
She felt magnetically attracted towards it,
Touched it as a fluffy cat,
Tried to pet it like a dog,
Picked up some of the pieces,
Refractions enchanted her while
One of the shards injured her palm,
A fine line, a bloody deep cut,
It formed on the page of skin
Where her fate was written,
Gore streamed from the wound
And she watched her own blood
Flow like a river,
As if it had charmed her,
The red shade of that vital fluid
Smelt like red wine,
Captivated her mind and
Dazzled her eyes,
Tears poured out of
Her windows to the soul,
Just as her blood
Ran out of her hand,
She saw her sister,
Yelling,
Crying,
Freaking out and
Asking,
“What are you doing?,
It must be hurting,
Let me put a bandage
On the wound that is
Bleeding like a fountain.”
Wiping away her tears,
Said she
In the voice of a werewolf,
“I’ve bigger wounds
On the source of this blood,
It doesn’t hurt,
Not anymore.”

Not Anymore.

gone

You were water to my unquenched thirst,
Euphoric fire to my dark soul,
Air to my dead breaths,
Earth to my feelings yet to be grown.

You were food to my hungry stomach,
Running blood to my beating heart,
Unpolluted oxygen to my breathing lungs,
Relishing thoughts to my processing brain.

But look at you now,
You ‘were’ all those life giving things,
And,
You are not anymore.

Traces.

footprints

Ever saw tracks on the shore
that birds leave behind when they fly away?
Ever looked at the foot prints
that humans leave behind when they go home?
Ever observed how a wave comes washing it all away
and leaving behind a new shore?
Similar is the matter with me,
Enemies left their tracks,
Loved ones left their footprints,
A wave of time splashed,
But,
They remained the same.
For my heart is not beach sand,
And my memories are not footprints,
Nor my scars washable tracks.

A Dead Heart.

justtheveinsofheart

Heart feels,
When actually it’s supposed to pump blood.
Heart aches,
When really it’s supposed to keep oxygenated and deoxygenated blood from mixing.
Heart cries,
When literally it’s supposed to circulate blood.
Heart wishes,
When truly it’s supposed to act like a healthy freakin muscle.
Heart tries to escape the rib cage prison,
When honestly it’s supposed to stay, beat and keep the body alive.

But,
What about a dead heart?

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